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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487784">behind door number none</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faedemon/pseuds/faedemon'>faedemon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>faedemon's Phic Phight 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danny Phantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Gen, Horror, Inspired by The Magnus Archives, POV First Person, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, Phic phight 2020, and she's recording the statement of a girl followed by a strange door, basically maddies head of an organization that catalogues and researches paranormal phenomena, but only because it's intended to be read as a transcript of a spoken statement, doors, interview log, no tma knowledge is necessary to read</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,204</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faedemon/pseuds/faedemon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A phantom door stalks a teenage girl for three weeks before an encounter with one Danny Fenton stops it. Meanwhile, Maddie Fenton tries to make sense of the spiderweb of clues that tangles her son up with the supernatural.</p><p>  <i>I just stood there, for a few moments. I didn’t know what to think. It didn’t make sense. I had to be seeing wrong; there was no logic to what I was looking at and I didn’t understand it. I blinked a couple times, trying to see if the door would go away, but it didn’t. It stayed there, looming over me, stuck in my doorframe so cleanly that by all accounts it was like it was carved to fit there. My eyes kept going back to its handle. That deep, penetrating black. It was like a void. Like if I reached out and tried to turn it, my hand would fall right in, and the rest of me would follow.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>faedemon's Phic Phight 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Phic Phight!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>behind door number none</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridianmayfly/gifts">astridianmayfly</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>UPDATE 5/24/2020: This fic was originally written when I was actively listening to TMA. I hadn't known about the Entities yet, or anything of real substance, so reading this fic with that knowledge in mind has it a little bit incoherent. I plan to write and post a revised version of this fic, considering that knowledge, soon.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I will probably be making a podfic of this work, so stay tuned for that if you're interested! If I do, it will be linked here ;)</p><p>This was written based off of one of the Phic Phight 2020 prompts, given by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridianmayfly">astridianmayfly</a> who can also be found under that username on Tumblr and FFN. The prompt is as follows: "There is a strange door following your character of choice. The handle simply lay on its exterior...and it is tempting them to open it."</p><p>Disclaimer: As Mia is a background character with only a confirmed canon first name, I took it upon myself to give her a last name, as well as parents. Her last name, and her parents Farida and Leo Quintero, are of my creation, but feel free to use their names in your own work if you are so inclined.</p><p>Lastly, this story is cross-posted on FFN the username fedemonn, and can be found <a>here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[CLICK]</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>Statement of <a href="https://dannyphantom.fandom.com/wiki/Mia">Mia Quintero</a>, regarding her recent experiences with a particular doorway. Statement recorded direct from subject, 18th December, 2013. Audio recording supervised by Madeline Fenton, owner and head researcher of Fentonworks Laboratory and Investigations. </p><p>Statement begins.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>MIA</p>
</div><p>Um, now?</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>Yes, whenever you’re ready.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>MIA (STATEMENT)</p>
</div><p>Okay. <i>[sigh]</i> I’m not totally sure why I’m here, honestly. I don’t believe in the paranormal. Or… I didn’t. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, or what it means. I feel so helpless. I just want you to… to be able to tell me that what I saw wasn’t anything. That I <i>am</i> crazy, and I should go to a mental hospital. I almost wish I were brave enough to check myself in on my own.</p><p>I guess this all started a few weeks ago, right after the football game against CJ Miller’s. We won. It was close. Afterwards, it got out that a couple of the more popular kids at school were inviting people over to one of their houses to celebrate. Paulina Sanchez and Dash Baxter, I think. It was Dash’s house. There wasn’t much interesting about the party, at least not that I think you’d be interested in. Some of the football players broke an air hockey table. I got that on video, it was funny. <i>[shuddering intake of breath]</i> I don’t know if it’s hindsight, but thinking about it now, everything about the afterparty seemed a little… stilted? Sort of like everyone was holding their breaths. People were laughing and having fun and being stupid, but it was like I was in a bubble away from them, and everything was muffled. I tried to be part of everything, throw myself into the middle of things, but no matter what I did it never seemed like I could get that bubble to pop.</p><p>It was when I got home that things… changed. It was close to midnight. I remember that; I looked at the clock on the microwave when I came in through the kitchen. I thought my parents were asleep; all the rooms downstairs were dark, and I couldn’t hear anything. I tiptoed my way upstairs, not wanting to wake them—I thought my mother would yell at me for going to a party after the game without asking permission. I’d texted her where I was going, of course, but I didn’t ask. I… I kinda wish I had asked. I don’t know if it would have made a difference, but sometimes I think that maybe if she’d said no, none of this would have happened.</p><p>I went upstairs to my room. Your room is usually where you’re most comfortable, I think, but something about the air in there that day was different. I was uneasy, like the kind of paranoia you get just after watching a horror movie, except I had no reason to feel weird other than being worried my mom might come shout at me, and even then that kind of fear doesn’t feel the same. This was a kind of… ugly, creeping dread. I hated it. It’s a weird reaction to have, I know, but as I was feeling it, I got so <i>angry</i>, somehow. I hated that I felt nervous. I hated that I was scared, and for no reason. My room was bright with light and I’d just come home from a party and I could hear my dad snoring down the hall. There was nothing to be scared of!</p><p>And then I turned around. I was frustrated with myself, and wanted to go take a shower to wash the feeling away. I turned around, and my door was closed.</p><p>You… Mrs. Fenton, you’ve gotta understand. I didn’t shut the door behind me when I walked in my room. I can’t tell you just how <i>much</i> I didn’t shut my door. There—there wasn’t actually room <i>to</i> shut it; I was still in the doorway, if it had swung shut on its own—and it wouldn’t, my house isn’t drafty and everything’s perfectly level—it would have hit me in the shoulder. My door was open and then I turned around and it wasn’t and—<i>[choked gasp. Mia collecting herself.]</i></p><p>It really, really wasn’t my door. The door to my room is white, with a bronze knob. It’s plastic, not real metal, but it’s shiny. This door was shut tight, wooden, and it was a deep, deep brown. Its handle was black. So black, like it was sucking in all the light in my room. It was ornate, beautifully carved, probably by hand. It looked more like the kind of door that leads into a witch’s cottage, not a bedroom door. It was not my door. It was not my door.</p><p>
  <i>[sniffling, a few intakes of breath]</i>
</p><p>I just stood there, for a few moments. I didn’t know what to think. It didn’t make sense. I had to be seeing wrong; there was no logic to what I was looking at and I didn’t understand it. I blinked a couple times, trying to see if the door would go away, but it didn’t. It stayed there, looming over me, stuck in my doorframe so cleanly that by all accounts it was like it was carved to fit there. My eyes kept going back to its handle. That deep, penetrating black. It was like a void. Like if I reached out and tried to turn it, my hand would fall right in, and the rest of me would follow.</p><p>I didn’t want to open it. From the moment I first saw it, the dread I’d been feeling grew to be almost unbearable. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on it that I shouldn’t open it, and I never intended to. But while I was looking at that handle, I… I don’t know, lost time or something. A few seconds at most, but when I took in what was happening and where I was next, my hand was reaching out and it was so close to touching that handle.</p><p>I’ll admit that I screamed. It was so startling, to at one moment be in one position and the next somehow be in another, but not moving in between. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe it quite right. I didn’t move, Mrs. Fenton. I was a few feet away, and then I was there, my arm outstretched. That’s the best that I can put it.</p><p>My mom—that’s Farida Quintero—was awake. My dad, Leo Quintero, snored through it all, but my mom heard me because she hadn’t gone to sleep yet. I had just forced my hand back to my side when she burst through my door, coming to see if I was alright. It was the most peculiar thing. She didn’t open my door, because my door had already been open. She was just… there, in front of me, where before the door had stood. My door was there again, too, opened into the room like it should have been all along. Mom asked if I was alright, and when I said yeah, she gave me the chewing out I’d expected when I first came in. Then she went back down the hallway to her and my dad’s room, leaving me and my open door alone.</p><p>The door had been open when it first happened, so I knew that it wouldn’t mean anything, really, but I used one of my hair ties to keep my bedroom door pulled open, after that. From then on I hated the sight of closed doors. Still do, as you probably noticed. It’s why I insisted we do this with your door open.</p><p>It didn’t come back that night, and I eventually got a couple hours of sleep, although I was on edge the whole time. It didn’t come back for a few days. After three, I’d sort of convinced myself it was a dream, or maybe, um. <i>[hushed]</i> Maybe it was because I’d been drinking at the party. Please don’t tell my parents that. They’d kill me. That was the only time I saw it that I was under the influence, I swear. For every other time I was stone-cold sober.</p><p>The next time was in my English class at school. I have it fourth period. My teacher is Mr. Lancer—I think his first name is Edward?—and he’s really boring, so I was trying to nap my way through the hour. I had my head down on my desk, facing the general direction of the doorway. I didn’t notice it at first because I was drowsy. I think maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if it weren’t for that handle. It was so dark I had to look. I needed to. It was hushed, almost. Like it was quieting down the whole world in the time I spent looking at it, and if I touched it, everything would be silent. I don’t mind noise, really. People tell me I’m loud all the time! It doesn’t bother me, I like being loud. I like being the life of the party. That feeling, though, looking at it… you’ll never get it the way I did. That silence, that total, complete silence, was more appealing than anything I’ve ever considered before. I wanted it so badly. I <i>needed</i> it, more than anything I’d ever needed in my life. My mind didn’t feel like my own, then. I wanted what it wanted. It wanted… it wanted me to be quiet. It wanted us all to be quiet.</p><p>I’d gotten halfway across the room before Mr. Lancer actually had to shake me by the shoulders to snap me out of it. I made eye contact with him, startled, and by the time I was able to look back, it was just the classroom door again.</p><p>After that I kept seeing it. At first it was every few days, but it got quicker right up until the end, when I couldn’t walk by a doorway without it being there. The first few times I either caught myself or was snapped out of trying to open it, but I learned quickly that if I didn’t get ahold of myself, it wouldn’t last. Whatever was on the other side of that door, whatever seeped through that handle, I knew somehow that if I opened it, there would be no turning back.</p><p>I should say that it didn’t feel malevolent. I was scared of it, but not because it felt like it wanted to do me harm. Whatever that door was, it just—it thought so differently from us. It wanted, and needed, and I don’t think it understood fear or consciousness or agency or anything like that. I’m not sure it had a mind enough to understand. It was like an instinct, I guess, one so primal and guttural and enveloping that I kept getting caught up in it.</p><p>I did notice that it only ever appeared in existing doorways. It didn’t appear in places where there wasn’t already a door, like an archway or those open-plan homes that have empty thresholds. I started spending a lot of time outside. I watched the football practices and hung out in the park and actually stooped to order food from a <i>food truck</i> one time—<i>[almost-hysterical laughter]</i></p><p>Look, Mrs. Fenton, that door scared me. I don’t know what was on the other side of it, but I could feel it, and it scared me.</p><p>I didn’t keep track of how many times I saw it. I don’t know if I should have, if that would be useful to you at all, but I don’t really think so. It doesn’t seem like it stopped because it had run its course, or hit a time limit or anything. That’s… The reason it stopped is half of why I came to you, actually. I hope you can tell me that this was all a delusion or a hallucination or something, but that’s not the only reason I’m here.</p><p>It was about five days ago. I was in after-school detention. Mr. Falluca—um, Bernard Falluca?—he gave me a detention for not turning in my work. I’ve been pretty distracted. I haven’t been doing my homework, and to be honest, I don’t really care. I had other things on my mind. Anyway, I wasn’t the only one in detention. Ms. Tetslaff, her first name’s Amy, was supervising, and there were three other kids there. I didn’t recognize one of them. Another was this kid called Spike, he’s a junior and he’s really goth and I don’t know his actual name. And your son, Danny.</p><p>I was doodling on my desk in pencil when I noticed the door out of the corner of my eye. At this point, I’d figured out how to keep myself from giving in to its… compulsion, I guess you could say. I didn’t look at it. I forced my eyes away from the handle every time they starting drifting over, and I held the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles were white. Every few seconds I’d become conscious that my legs had shifted without my doing, or one of my hands had unclenched, but I’d refocus and stay like that. So far, it had always worked. It never did go away on its own. Instead, eventually someone would interrupt the door somehow, and I would be free to relax.</p><p>It was while I was focusing that I noticed Danny get up. I was sitting near the back of the room. He usually does too, at least in the classes I have with him, but this time for some reason he chose to sit roughly in the middle of the room. While I was studiously not looking at the door, I saw him stand up. He didn’t ask Ms. Tetslaff if he could go to the bathroom, nor did he have anything in his hands to throw away. He just got up, and started walking toward the door. I sort of remember Ms. Tetslaff saying something, probably telling him to sit down. I don’t know. The moment I noticed Danny, everything got very quiet. Muffled. It was almost the same feeling the door gave me, but not quite. This quiet was less… aggressive, I guess is the best way to describe it. It wasn’t stifling so much as it was comforting.</p><p>It was quiet, and I watched as Danny made his way up the middle aisle between the desks, ignoring Ms. Tetslaff’s increasingly agitated tone. He turned toward the door and headed for it, casual as can be, and I watched, waiting for that shifting moment where the door would disappear and in its place rest what was supposed to be there. I expected it. Even in this peculiar bubble of muffling, I hadn’t quite realized that Danny would be any different than anyone else who got close to it.</p><p>The door stayed, and when Danny reached it, he turned back and made eye contact with me. And he smiled. At least, I think he did. It was sort of mean, like he thought all of my distress was funny.</p><p>He reached out and put his hand on the handle, and as he began to turn it, the door sort of… sucked in on itself. <i>[frustrated huff]</i> God, I don’t know how to word it. It wasn’t like the other times it had gone. This time I watched it go, and it swirled inward, toward the point where Danny’s hand made contact, until it was so small I couldn’t see it. The black of the handle collapsed inward, and Danny took his hand away without ever having opened it, and it was gone.</p><p>I could hear again, then. Ms. Tetslaff barked something at Danny—I think she asked him when she’d said it was okay for him to get up, or something. I don’t think I’ll forget the way he responded to that for a long time.</p><p>He said, “Oh, my bad,” in the most carefree tone of voice, and when he said it, he looked at me. And he smiled again.</p><p>That was the last I ever saw of it. It hasn’t been that long, but… I don’t think I’ll see it again.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>Thank you, Mia. You can go, if you like.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>MIA</p>
</div><p>Okay.</p><p>Um, Mrs. Fenton?</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>Yes?</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>MIA</p>
</div><p>Is there something… wrong, with Danny?</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>I don’t really think that’s your concern, Mia.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>MIA</p>
</div><p>Right. Sorry. I’m gonna, uh. I’m gonna go. <i>[sound of footsteps walking quickly away]</i></p><p> </p><p>[CLICK]</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>HEAD RESEARCHER</p>
</div><p>Statement ends.</p><p>This is concerning. I would chalk it up to a bad reaction to alcohol, and hallucinatory symptoms afterward, if Mia did not mention Danny’s involvement. We followed up on all the details we could. The Baxter family was unaware of the party before we questioned them about it, but in our presence Dash Baxter did admit to hosting one after the football game three weeks ago. He didn’t particularly notice Mia’s attendance, but from her own account, it’s clear they aren’t close. Leo Quintero declined to comment, but Farida Quintero did confirm for us that Mia came home late from the game, and she went to check on her when she heard a scream. Following this, Edward Lancer, Bernard Falluca, and Amy Tetslaff have all corroborated Mia’s statement. She turned in little to no homework starting three weeks ago, and had been displaying erratic and concerning behavior, characterized mostly by absentminded actions. Bernard Falluca did in fact assign her detention regarding her homework, and Amy Tetslaff supervised it.</p><p>Curiously, when we questioned Tetslaff about the detention itself, she did not seem to remember anything about Danny getting up in the middle nor her reprimanding his behavior. When asked, she got a very foggy look in her eyes before shaking it off and asking us to repeat the question.</p><p>This is the first account involving Danny that he has seemed less than kind in. Whatever involvement he has with the paranormal, he has always seemed to be a benevolent presence. It may simply be that he does not much like Mia Quintero, which I desperately hope to be the case. I’ve been putting off a confrontation this long because he seemed like he was handling himself, and without sufficient information, I’m sure any kind of intervention wouldn’t go anywhere. But… if there’s any chance that Danny is being influenced or possessed by a malevolent entity, or that his mind is simply being twisted by his involvement, I will try to pull him out of it in any way that I can.</p><p>The door itself cannot be followed up on, as, by all accounts, it does not physically exist. As I stated before, however, I do believe Mia’s account. We have not before catalogued anything resembling this door, though based on the way she described it, it may not have truly been a door at all—rather, it might have presented itself to her that way, for her to be able to comprehend it.</p><p>Nevertheless, there isn’t much else we can do with this statement.</p><p>End recording.</p><p>[CLICK]</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading!!!! please leave a comment if you liked this fic; i really fuckin loved writing it, esp bc i'm currently binging my way through the magnus archives. i'm only on episode 52 as of posting this, so no spoilers in the comments if you know what tma is, lmao</p><p>remember to give the other phic phighters of this year some love! ^-^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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